Help…I’ve Lost My Hevele !

I’m sitting in my big, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room, mourning the loss of my hevele. I know it’s missing, because my friend Susan, who runs the post office down the block just asked me about it. Susan and I have been friends since I awarded her my first Gruntled Post Office Employee Of The Month award. It was a bar of Hershey Dark Chocolate.

 She is usually very up-beat and pleasant. But today she looked at me and said, “Why do you look so disheveled?” Disheveled ? Now, I don’t take a bow every time I pass a mirror, but on the other hand, I don’t think I look like my hobby is stepping on rakes either. And I am in reasonably good health…my doctor recently assured me that regardless of my age, I am still not showing many of the early signs of mummification. And I reminded Susan of what Big Louie, his own bad self, the Chief Mustard Cutter of the Louie-Louie Generation always says, “It’s wasteful to throw a whole face away, just because it’s banged up a bit.”

 Disheveled she called me. Let’s examine the word. The prefix ”dis,” essentially reverses the rest of the word. For example, if you are dis-abled, you are not able to do something. If I dis-cover you, I’m looking at you naked. If you dis-appear…zap…you appear to be gone. So if Susan says I look dis-heveled, that must mean I appear to be missing my hevele.

 If that’s the case, then if the word dis-crete means you are socially inhibited, then you might say a buddy who just had a bachelor party probably spent a pretty crete night. If instead of treating someone with dis-tain, you gain great respect for that person, you might say, “You know I have more and more tain for you.” And when a lady is the exact opposite of disgusting, you can reasonably look at her, and tell her softly…”You look absolutely gusting tonight.”

 Dick’s Details Quiz. All answers are in the current podcast.

1- How did Isaac Newton’s mother think he’d make his fortune ?

2- How did CBS make sure their coverage of a recent golf tournament would include lots of birdies ?

3- What nasty crack did I avoid, having to do with Fannie Mae

 Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.

 Disheveled, Susan called me. And that dis-turbed me. Which means it upset my turb.  Ok, so I’m no George Clooney. But it’s been a while since anybody I first meet, asks me if anybody else was hurt in my accident. I am not even a struggling hair farmer. I have plenty of it…although I will admit, some of it growing in unusual places. And by the way what it is with women and guy’s hair? My Lady Wonder Wench likes a violinist by the name of Andre Reiu, so we went to see him when he was in town recently. He was standing up there on stage with his hair growing all the way down around his belt…and he was waving it around like a flag in a tornado…and you could hear all the women in the audience… including my Lady Wonder Wench whispering to each other…”Oh isn’t he wonderful ?” Then she turned to me and said…”You need a haircut, you look disheveled.” I said “Be careful or I’ll stand up and start making up my own dance moves.”

 There’s a story about another couple who went to a concert, in the Night Connections Personal Audio Cd. Well…they didn’t actually go…and that’s a big part of the story. The lady involved  was a wonderfully wise woman. A tired, female, hurting, human…who does woman things…and probably very well. She probably understands the facial expressions on a cat, and she can tell the difference between beige, off white, and egg shell. And most important…even though she certainly isn’t happy about her tired feet, and silly obligations, and even her first gray hair…she knows…even after a lot of years…that she can still squeeze some major juice into the life of her equally tired guy…just when he’s most thirsty for it. I like her. A lot.

 “The Couples Concert” is from the Night Connections Personal Audio cd. If you like it, you can just keep the current podcast. Or if you want a fresh copy, download it from the Night Connections icon on the home page.

 There’s good and bad about being a member of the Louie-Louie Generation. Some days we look a little…disheveled. Some Louie-Louie Ladies go for face lifts…Big Louie advises against that. He says, “There’s no guarantee that when you get your face lifted, there won’t be one under it that looks exactly the same.” And some of us Louie-Louie lads are experimenting with things like support sideburns. And Aerobics…that’s big with lots of us. But not with me. I’m not big on aerobics. And I just saw a statistic that justifies my attitude. It seems that every seven minutes of every day, someone in an aerobics class pulls a hamstring. Which leads me to ask if you’ve heard the one about why the aerobics instructor crossed the road ? The answer is that somebody on the other side could still walk.

 So Susan the post office lady says I look disheveled. Actually at the moment, I must admit that I look a more like an un-made bed. Which is appropriate. Because my Lady Wonder Wench just came out of the shower, wearing her bathrobe, and bunny slippers, and she has a towel wrapped around her hair…and I’m here to tell you that her hevele looks just fine. In fact she is looking exceptionally gusting…so I have high hopes for enjoying a very crete time tonight.

 And I wish the same for you.

One Response to “Help…I’ve Lost My Hevele !”

  1. Bill Thrasher says:

    What a piece. I always wondered what it meant to have lost my hevele. Though old, I am not inert though. I remain very ert, but disheveled